


First Encounter

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [38]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have a rather ironic announcement: there are only a few pieces left of this series before I get into the post-game works. I've done a range of epilogue-type fics with different situations and outcomes because I wanted to see those endings for myself, and also so people can choose which one they want as their canon ending to the series. They'll probably get their own mini-series, as will all the scraps of dialogue and drabbles that didn't quite make it into the series proper.<br/>At the time of writing I've got around 5 pieces left to put up, but some are in need of reworking because I'm not happy with them. I'll still be taking requests, as well, so don't worry about that stopping anytime soon.<br/>I'm glad everyone seems to have enjoyed this series so far. It's meant a lot to me.</p></blockquote>





	First Encounter

Theron took the lead as he trudged onwards, not really wanting to walk closely with the three _shemlen_ on the way back to the camp outside Redcliffe. Alistair and Morrigan were arguing heatedly, of course, about the ethics of demons and blood magic, and seemed to ignore the two quieter members of the party.

Leliana had tried to walk with him, but the memories of her casual racism and mentions of elven servants from the other day still hadn’t faded. The ranger had forgiven her slightly since then, realising that perhaps she honestly didn’t know any better, but he had no wish to walk with the redheaded bard for now.

They’d left the Qunari Sten in charge of the camp, along with the dog. It was difficult to say who would keep an eye on who until the rest of the group returned. As to be expected, the group was largely uneasy around each other, still figuring each other out from afar, finding out who they got on best with, and what conversation topics needed to be avoided around who. Leliana and Theron were learning quickly what could set Alistair and Morrigan off on a heated debate, and hopefully Leliana had realised she was speaking to a Dalish elf who was proud of his heritage. At least she hadn’t called him a knife-ear, but a bitter part of him was waiting for that day.

The ranger was trying to blot out the bickering just behind him, grey eyes on the road ahead as he tried to listen to the noises of the world around them as the afternoon sun beat down. They were perhaps a few hours from camp by now, and would be back before sunset.

He paused, and turned his head from side to side as he took a deep breath in. He could smell smoke, carried along by a breeze from the west. He looked over, squinting against the sunlight, and nodded to himself when he saw a faint trickle of smoke winding up into the sky. Thankfully, Alistair and Morrigan grew quiet when they almost walked into the ranger.

“There’s smoke over there, and we’re nowhere near our own camp yet.” Theron explained, nodding in the direction of the smoke. Alistair stepped up beside him, his armour making so much noise in comparison to the other three in robes or light, flexible leather armour. The ex-Templar frowned, and opened his mouth to say something, when a middle-aged woman with a stave strapped to her back ran up to them from around a bend further up the track, from the direction of the smoke.

“Oh, thank the Maker! Please help us. They attacked the wagon. I’ll take you to them, you have to help us.” She pleaded, before any other the group could ask who she was. Theron glanced around at the group, wondering if they would object to helping out a clearly distressed woman. Morrigan was scowling at the mage, but that was to be expected. They’d only been travelling together a month at the most, but Theron had soon learnt that the apostate had no sympathy for those too weak to help themselves. She caught him looking at her, and rolled her eyes.

“Lead on.” Morrigan added, and Theron nodded slowly.

“Can you lead the way?” He asked the older woman, who nodded and turned to all but run back down the track again. Theron and Alistair exchanged a glance, but the group followed. As he’d thought, the path curved towards the smoke he’d seen curling upwards into the sky.

He barely had time to take in the sight of the dip in the ground where at least two wagons were overturned and the oxen slaughtered, and the hills that flanked it when he saw the mage ahead standing and talking to someone quite calmly; she blocked the group’s view of whoever it was.

Theron narrowed his eyes, one hand going to his bow, and he was aware of the others doing the same. Something wasn’t right here.

“This is highly suspect.” Morrigan spoke quietly, yellow gaze calculating, and Leliana nodded agreement.

The mage stepped aside, allowing the man she’d been talking to to step forwards. Theron’s grip on his bow tightened, even as his eyes widened. It was another elf, dressed in leather armour and with two blades strapped to his back, along with what might have been two daggers at his hips. He was dark-skinned - nowhere near as dark as Theron, but noticeably more tanned than the mage beside him. His hair was blond, a few stray strands falling in front of his face, and he had some kind of facial tattoo that curved around one eye and cheek, the longest line almost reaching the corner of his lip.

The blond elf stared at each of the four party members in turn, no doubt weighing them up, and then he lifted a hand up. Theron’s heart sank a little when he saw other men appear out of hiding behind or from within the wagons, and his head turned to take in the sight of archers on the hills above them.

“Oh, wonderful. An ambush.” Alistair sighed, drawing his sword and looking from group to group of enemies. A creaking sound from above them, and the group was automatically darting forwards away from the thick trunk of a falling tree that blocked their path out.

The elf at the other end of the ambush smirked, and then drew his own swords.

“The Grey Wardens die here!”

That seemed to be the signal to attack, as the ambush sprang into action.

“Leliana, take out the archers if you can. Morrigan and Alistair, keep these mercenaries busy. I’ll try to take out the mage.” Theron ordered. He grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow in a single, fluid motion, already drawing the bowstring back as he aimed the arrowhead at the mage. The group split up; Leliana slinking away to the right, Alistair charging ahead into the fray and Morrigan stepping away so she and Theron would have enough space to fight without risking hurting each other.

Theron took a breath and focused, trying to steady his arms as he kept firing and aiming. He released the latest arrow a moment later, and the mage fell with a choked scream, a fresh arrow embedded in her throat to join the ones in her shoulder and stomach. That problem taken care of, he focused on helping Leliana with the enemy archers.

The ranger focused on ducking spells aimed his way, trusting Alistair to keep the melee fighters from reaching him - he glanced over at one point to see him turning like an angered bear to face the blond elf who seemed to be the leader of the ambush and fight him head on.

The fight was over surprisingly quickly, but Theron kept an arrow nocked as he carefully stepped further into the clearing, in case one of the mercenaries or archers survived long enough to try and fight on.

“I think we did it.” Alistair said, wiping sweat from his brow. Morrigan was frowning again.

“I was suspicious the moment that mage came up to us.” She admitted.

“Why?” Leliana asked.

“Because I have used similar tactics in the wilds.” The apostate shrugged.

“I’ve heard of other Dalish clans who use this kind of trickery when they are desperate for supplies.” Theron added, slowly lowering his bow and putting the arrow back in his quiver. He didn’t mention that his own clan had. “We may as well search the bodies and these wagons for supplies, or anything that might tell us why we were ambushed.”

“You don’t often see an elf leading a group of mercenaries. And this was rather well organised.” Alistair nodded, sheathing his sword. The group dispersed again to look for supplies, coin, perhaps a letter, and in the Dalish elf’s case, reclaiming his arrows.

“If this is what we get for having good intentions…” Leliana called over with a sigh.

They were almost done and ready to move on when Morrigan stopped in front of the elf that had organised the attack. She frowned down at him, and then adjusted her grip on her staff. The forceful prod to his stomach with the end of her staff caught him by surprise, made him let out a winded grunt and broke his facade of playing dead.

“Warden, I think this will interest you.” The witch called dryly, stepping back and leaning on her staff, staring down at the elf in amusement until the ranger walked over, bow held tightly in one hand. “It seems he lives. Such a pity.”

The elf lying on the floor stirred weakly. He was wounded, and seemed to be regaining consciousness.

“I guess I didn’t bash him in the head hard enough.” Alistair frowned in disappointment. “We could kill him now, rather than leave him for the crows?” He suggested hopefully, looking at his fellow Grey Warden for approval.

Theron shrugged, drawing his bow and nocking a fresh arrow, just in case..

“Or, we could tie him up and find out what he knows? If he really was the leader, he’s got to know who sent him to do this.” The ranger pointed out.

“But he’s not awake.” Leliana pointed out, and Morrigan smirked.

“Allow me.” The mage said, and poked the blond elf with a bit more force.

“Mm, what?” The blond groaned, lifting his head up from the mud. He opened his eyes, and looked up to see the people he’d been sent to kill standing over him, looking distinctly unimpressed. “I… Oh.” He realised, looking around at the ruins of his ambush, the dead men and women scattered around.

“Oh, I rather thought I would wake up dead, or not wake up at all, as the case may be.” He sighed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Theron blinked at the unfamiliar accent and the way it twisted his words. He’d never heard an accent like that before. Was this other elf from some far away part of Ferelden?

“But, I see you haven’t killed me yet.” The blond added, looking up at the group with a hopeful grin, of all things.

“That could be changed, quite easily.” Alistair pointed out, one hand creeping to his sword hilt until he caught the look the Dalish elf was giving him.

“I… We have some questions first.” Theron said, still keeping a tight hold on his bow as he stared down at the other elf.

“Ah, if it’s questions you plan on asking me, let me save you a little time and get right to the point, no?” The blond suggested. “My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which… I have failed at, sadly.” He chuckled darkly, looking from each member of the group to the next. Theron stiffened when their gazes met down the shaft of his arrow, knowing that his own smoke-grey eyes, so unnatural against his skin colour, would give him away. He didn’t know that Zevran had already seen them once before, on a rough sketch. Brown skin, black hair braided and tied, pointed ears, grey eyes, crude black squiggles that shamed the vallaslin on his forehead. The blond human had been far less distinctive. Theron couldn’t help noticing how the blond… Zevran’s eyes were a dark gold, similar to his hair and even his skin colour. The ranger was the first one to look away. He still kept the arrow aimed.

“Well, I’m rather happy that you failed.” He replied, leaning his weight back on one leg.

“So would I be, in your shoes.” Zevran’s gaze darted down to take in the other elf’s choice of footwear, and then up his otherwise bare legs to his faulds. Regrettably, he realised he was just a few inches too far away to be able to see up them. “For me, however, this sets a rather poor precedent, doesn’t it?” He sighed dramatically. “Getting captured by a target seems just a tad detrimental to one’s budding assassin career.”

“So he’s not even a full assassin? They sent a novice after you?” Leliana frowned, and Zevran frowned back at her.

“No, I did not say that.” He replied slowly, regretting that choice of words.

Theron shook his head, deciding now would be a good time to ask a question before things veered off track.

“What are the Antivan Crows?” He asked blankly.

“Oh, I can tell you that.” Leliana ventured, and all four of the others looked at her curiously. “They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done...” She paused, and looked down at Zevran sprawled out inelegantly in the mud and blood at their mercy. “Usually. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.”

“Quite right. I’m surprised that you haven’t heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I come from, we’re rather infamous.” Zevran nodded.

“Not for being good assassins, I see.” Alistair pointed out.

“Oh, fine. Is this what you Fereldens do, hm? Mock your prisoners? Such cruelty.” Zevran huffed.

“Who hired you to kill us?” Alistair questioned, folding his arms across his chest as best he could in his armour.

“Hm. A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was? Yes, that was it.”

Theron watched Alistair’s jaw tighten.

“Does that mean you’re loyal to him?”

“I have no idea what his issues are with you.” Zevran admitted freely with a casual shrug. “The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes?” He looked from Alistair to Theron and back. “Beyond that, no, I’m not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.”

“Loyal to the coin.” Morrigan muttered to herself.

“And now you’ve failed that service?” Theron asked.

“Well, that is between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself.”

The ranger raised one eyebrow.

“And between you and us?”

“Isn’t that what we are establishing now?”

“When were you going to see him next?” Alistair questioned.

“Loghain? I wasn’t. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results, if he didn’t already know.” Zevran glancing around once more. “And if I had failed, I would be dead. Or, I should be, as far as the Crows are concerned. They like keeping up their flawless record.” The Antivan looked up at the group curiously, and their weapons. “Although my chances of succeeding at this point are very slim indeed, aren’t they?” He started to laugh, but trailed off awkwardly. “Ah… No, I don’t suppose you would find that funny, would you?”

“How much were you paid?”

“I wasn’t paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand.”

Theron frowned slightly. So, this assassin hadn’t even been paid to kill them? Perhaps there was a reason why he had failed so spectacularly.

“This makes me about a poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it.” Zevran sighed. “Being an Antivan Crow is not for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.”

“Then why are you one?” Leliana asked, tilting her head curiously. The blond smiled at her, the picture of seductive charm even though he was lying in the mud covered in his own drying blood.

“Well, aside from a lack of ambition I suppose it was because I wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter. The Crows bought me young, I was told. A bargain, too.”

Theron looked at the blond elf sharply, wondering just how young ‘young’ was. The idea of a child being raised in an order of killers was… Worrying, just a little. And the Crows had bought him? Like a slave? And they went as far as to not even pay him for killing the people he was asked to?

Zevran shrugged casually. “Don’t let my sad story influence you.” He advised, sounding oddly cheerful. “The Crows aren’t so bad. They keep you well supplied - wine, women, men.” His gaze flicked over each party member casually. “Whatever you happen to fancy.” He added, staring up at the ranger. “Though, the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I’d really think twice about it.”

“I doubt any of us would.” Morrigan replied flatly, staff planted firmly on the ground so she could lean against it.

“Thanks.” Theron added.

“You seem like a capable fellow, I’m sure you have other options.” Zevran commented, and the ranger wondered if he imagined the hint of wistfulness in that strong Antivan accent or not.

“Why are you telling us all of this?” Alistair piped up again, and the blond elf chuckled.

“Why not?” He asked back. “I wasn’t paid for my silence - I wasn’t paid at all, remember? Not that I offered it for sale in the first place, precisely.”

Morrigan let out a snort of disgust.

“Are you not loyal to your employers at all, Antivan?” She asked.

“Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you are all done interrogating me, we could discuss it further?” Zevran suggested, looking up at the Dalish elf and raising his eyebrow almost hopefully. The black-haired man narrowed his eyes as he realised the blond was bringing up the matter of the blood debt he now owed the group. They had spared him, so the least they could do was listen to his terms, whatever they were.

“I’m listening.” Theron said, tone wary, and the blond smiled in thanks.

“Well, here’s the thing. I have obviously failed to kill either of you Grey Wardens, or even leave a scratch on you.” He explained, gaze flicking up and down the ranger very unsubtly. “So, my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. And, if you don’t kill me, the Crows will.”

Theron blinked. It was a brutal punishment, but he knew it made sense for an order of assassins that seemed to hold a great deal of power. His arrow rasped against wood as he slowly relaxed the bowstring, but he kept his fingers on the string and thumb on the fletching, ready to draw again in a second.

“The thing is, I like living. And you are clearly the sort to give the Crows pause. So, let me serve you, instead.”

Alistair let out a noise of disbelief, folding his arms tightly again.

“Would you be as loyal to us as you were to Loghain? Make deals with the next people who beat you?” He asked sharply.

“I happen to be a very loyal person!” Zevran protested, frowning in a way that creased the top of his facial tattoo. “Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing.” He looked from one person to the other. “That’s not a fault, is it? I mean, unless you are the sort who would do the same thing. And if that is the case, I… Don’t come very well recommended, I’m afraid.” He laughed, almost nervously.

“And what’s to stop you from finishing the job later? Say, poison our food or slit our throats while we sleep?” Morrigan queried, and Zevran smirked at her.

“Why, you, of course.” He all but purred, and then he shook his head. “No, to be honest, I was never given a choice in joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I’ve paid them my worth by now, plus tenfold. The only way out is to sign up with someone the Crows cannot touch.” Zevran’s gold eyes flicked from Alistair to Theron and back, making his meaning clear. “Even if I did manage kill you now, they might kill me on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I would rather take my chances with you. Altruism from strangers is not something I am used to.”

“But, won’t they come after you?” Leliana asked. In contrast to the others, she seemed to be frowning in concern rather than looking down at the other elf in anger or disgust or wary curiosity.

“Possibly.” Zevran nodded. “I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that any of you seem to need much help.” The Crow peered up at Alistair, his armour and sword that gleamed in the sunlight, and the ranger’s tense stance. “And if not… Well, it’s not as if I had many alternatives to start with, no?” He let out a dry chuckle. “Besides, I am sure there are worse things in life than serving the whims of such a gorgeous elf.” He added casually, and Theron’s eyes widened at the unexpected compliment before he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“What do you want in return?” He asked.

“Hm. Well, let’s see… Living would be very nice, and it would make me marginally more useful to you. And, somewhere along the line if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I will go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?”

“Why would we want your service?”

“I am skilled at many things, trust me. From fighting to stealth and to picking locks. I could also warn you if the Crows decide to attempt something more… Sophisticated now my attempt on your life has failed.” Zevran narrowed his eyes slightly as he examined the Dalish elf, thinking. “Apart from that, I could stand around and look pretty, if you wish. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors?”

“Is this before or after you stab one of us in the back?”

Zevran let out a sigh, turning his head to look at the ex-Templar who had spoken and now was all but glaring at him.

“I give you my word that I will do no such thing.” The Crow answered indignantly, and then turned back to the ranger with a slight toss of his head so his hair caught the light. “You won’t find a better deal, I promise. I’ll even shine armour or cook. What shall it be?”

Theron sighed, and was quiet as he thought it over.

“Very well, I accept your offer. Get up.”

“Hold on!” Alistair spluttered, staring at Theron as if he’d grown another head. “You’re taking the assassin with us? Is that really a good idea?”

Theron shrugged. If he did cause trouble for their group in the night, they could leave him behind in the morning, tied to a tree until he perished of thirst or the wolves picked up his scent. Theron remembered the few times his clan’s hand had been forced down that path due to the threat of encroaching _shemlen_ parties too small and disorganised to remember to stick together the further they were drawn into the depths of the forest. They were easily separated by glimpses of elves supposedly fleeing only to be snared like birds when they eagerly pursued, bound and left behind as the clan moved on away from the sounds of their crying and begging, occasionally leaving behind the carcass of a rabbit or deer to entice predators. Sometimes nature proved more merciful than a Dalish clan intent on protecting their own.

“I seem to have made a habit of collecting cast-offs lately. Besides, he could be useful. And if not, I will take care of him.” The ranger pointed out, slowly taking his arrow from the bowstring and tucking it away in his quiver.

“All right. I see your point. Still, if there was ever a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and invited itself in.”

“A fine plan.” Morrigan nodded. “I would examine your food and drink more carefully from now on, were I you.” With that she walked on ahead, skirting past the strewn bodies with enough grace to show that she had done it multiple times already in her life.

“That’s excellent advice for anyone.” Zevran agreed from where he was pushing himself up off the floor.

“Welcome, Zevran. Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan.” Leliana said.

“Are you are another companion-to-be, then? I wasn’t aware that such loveliness existed among adventurers these days.”

“Or maybe not.”

Theron rolled his eyes, but waited until Zevran had managed to struggle to his knees before he gave in and helped him up the rest of the way.

The Antivan’s palm was warm, the pads of his fingers and thumb callused from gripping sword hilts. They were caught in each other's gaze, Theron not having to look up for once given how they were of similar height. The ranger quickly looked away and pulled his hand free, leaning back a little while Zevran busied himself with brushing mud from his knees and rather well-kept looking leather armour.

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man without reservation, this I swear.” The Crow… The _former_ Crow rattled off quickly, as if he knew the words off by heart, and he dipped his head towards the Grey Wardens. When he looked up again, it was into two sharp grey eyes that flashed with curiosity.

 

On the walk back to camp, Theron made sure that Zevran walked on in front while Leliana looked after his daggers. If Sten was surprised when they returned with another elf, he didn’t show it, but Dudain growled at the intruder, ears back and teeth bared. The ranger sighed, realising belatedly that he would have to introduce someone else new to the dog so they wouldn’t be attacked if they breathed wrong around him.

“Dudain, _atisha_.” He said for now as Zevran sat down in front of the campfire, voice firm as he issued the command. The Antivan looked up curiously.

“What does that mean?”

“Peace. Elvish. It’ll stop him from growling at you, for now.” Theron explained, rubbing at his stiff neck. That ambush, recruiting Zevran and then walking back had taken up what had remained of the day, the sun just beginning to set and the sky darken.

The dinner was quiet, as it often was, but the group kept casting the newcomer wary glances even though he was still unarmed.

“So… You are Dalish, Warden?”

Theron looked up from the meal Leliana had cooked - some kind of Orlesian dish that he’d had to snare birds for - and glanced across at the Antivan.

“I wasn’t aware it was so obvious.” The ranger answered dryly, looking down at his leather armour, feeling the quiver still on his back and his bow resting against the side of his thigh. He couldn’t look more like one of his people if he tried. That raised a question, however. Zevran obviously was not Dalish, but he seemed to be too confident to be a city elf, too self assured. All that Theron had heard about the flat-ears that lived in city Alienages were that they were too timid and used to being kept under _shemlen_ boots to remember who they were, and were to be pitied.

What the blond had said earlier about his ‘induction’ into the Crows made Theron think about his own, into the Grey Wardens. Zevran had been sold as a child - where from was anyone’s guess - into the Crows, had said himself that he had no choice in the matter. The same way that Theron had been forced to join the Grey Wardens in order to survive, with little choice but to leave behind all that he had ever known and loved or waste away and die in agony. He had not wanted to leave, and who would, but he had done it because he knew it was in his best interest. He supposed his life now was not too different, in terms of never staying in one place for long, and sleeping under the stars. Just… Far more violent and bewildering at times.

Theron had not heard of any Dalish elves being Grey Wardens, either, and he could not help wondering if his clan, wherever they had travelled to by now, knew that he was one who seemed to be destined to help save Ferelden.

The ranger stared down at the remains of his meal, realising that he sympathised with the assassin more than he wanted to admit. Besides, if he was being honest with himself, it was a relief to have another elf in the party after being the only non-human until they came across the dog and later Sten.

He looked up when Zevran laughed loudly, almost as raucous as a real crow, and jolted him back to the conversation.

“You know, in my youth I had the great idea to run off and join a Dalish clan when one drew near to Antiva City. Of course, the reality did not match up to the fantasies I had imagined growing up under the Crows.” The Antivan admitted freely, having launched himself unreservedly into the after dinner chatter, perhaps to get everyone used to him and he to them. He radiated confidence, as if he’d already been part of the group for months.

“Let me guess, you underestimated just how scorned the Dalish were by _shemlen_? There is a reason why many of the clans are nomads.” Theron answered dryly, spearing some of the meat in his bowl with his eating utensil. While Alistair and Leliana used knives and forks that got lost or broken during their travels, the ranger had only need of a carved and sharpened piece of wood with two flat-sided tines, somewhere between a knife and a fork, that had already lasted him several years.

“Yes, that and the scruffy city elf runaway couldn’t keep up after walking so many miles every day without his feet blistering and bleeding.” Zevran nodded. “The Crows caught up with us a few days later to take me back, anyway. They’d been ever so worried about my wellbeing, you see.”

It was difficult to tell if he was being bitterly sarcastic, or trying to pass it off as another joke, but it helped conversation to flow a little easier, Leliana asking him about Antiva and the Crows.

Alistair grudgingly helped the blond set up his tent after the meal, one of the spares they carried, and if the Antivan was surprised that he would have to live in a tent and travel almost constantly for the foreseeable future, he didn’t complain.

“At least I have few possessions to worry about, hm?” Was all he had said, with another soft laugh that for some reason stayed with Theron long after everyone else turned in for the night.

“When do you think we should tell him about what exactly we’re fighting?” Alistair asked his fellow Grey Warden once they were on watch together, smiling grimly in the direction of the Antivan’s dark tent.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a rather ironic announcement: there are only a few pieces left of this series before I get into the post-game works. I've done a range of epilogue-type fics with different situations and outcomes because I wanted to see those endings for myself, and also so people can choose which one they want as their canon ending to the series. They'll probably get their own mini-series, as will all the scraps of dialogue and drabbles that didn't quite make it into the series proper.  
> At the time of writing I've got around 5 pieces left to put up, but some are in need of reworking because I'm not happy with them. I'll still be taking requests, as well, so don't worry about that stopping anytime soon.  
> I'm glad everyone seems to have enjoyed this series so far. It's meant a lot to me.


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